


The Cure for What Ails You

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cunnilingus, Doctor/Patient, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hysterical Paroxysm, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omegas with Vaginas/Vulvas, Pelvic Massage, Power Imbalance, Vaginal Fingering, Yuuri has a Vulva, do not copy to another site, literal and figurative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: Unmated omegas such as Mister Katsuki are prone to these fits outside of their heats, though going into their cycle can certainly exacerbate the issue. Victor is an alpha as well as a physician, which means this task largely falls to him.The other university medic, Doctor Crispino, is a beta with a disposition like rancid vinegar. The treatments are not nearly as effective when he performs them, leaving Victor with the lion’s share of their hysteria patients.Although, Victor thinks as he spares a glance back to Mister Katsuki, there are worse vocations.Omegaverse Victorian AU where omegas suffer from "hysteria" and are treated medically for it through doctor-administered "pelvic massages."





	1. now you say i got a touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seventhstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/gifts).

>   


Being a physician at a men’s university is trying at the best of times, due to the young fools and their need to rough and tumble their youth away through any means necessary. This typically means head injuries due to a little too much tonic after hours or simpletons refusing their fencing gear and risking the loss of an eye. 

There are other conundrums as well, such as the annual influenza pandemic or hay fever that would fell a third of the faculty and students in the spring. One of the first years, a young Mister Lee, is felled by a crippling pain in his head every month.

“I said I’m fine, I don’t need to see the doctor!” comes a bellow all-too familiar to Victor Nikiforov, the doctor in residence today at the university clinic. He also teaches courses on the new field of surgery when not treating the less-than-sensible male student body.

Victor comes out of his office. “What seems to be the trouble?”

Professor Cialdini holds Mister Katsuki by the right shoulder, not abusively so, but not weakly, either. He gives Victor the same tight-lipped smile he does every time this happens. 

Victor keeps his expression neutral, but he’s sure there may be a slight flush across his cheeks regardless. 

“Mister Katsuki’s been struck by hysteria again,” Cialdini replies with a rueful expression. 

Mister Katsuki shoots his professor a frustrated look. There’s a fire in his brown eyes, indignant and resolved. He studiously avoids Victor’s gaze. 

Victor clears his throat. This has begun happening with greater frequency, he notes. “Very well. I’ll take him in hand.”

“I appreciate it, Doctor NIkiforov, as well as the rest of the students in my seminar,” Professor Cialdini tells him with a smile. He takes his leave, and Mister Katsuki’s expression falls further as he watches the door close behind him.

“Follow me please,” Victor says. Mister Katsuki knows the way by now, and with some other students Victor might be concerned they’d run if he didn’t escort them by the arm. Not Mister Katsuki, though — he is always dutiful, eager to please in spite of his chronic hysteria.

Unmated omegas such as Mister Katsuki are prone to these fits outside of their heats, though going into their cycle can certainly exacerbate the issue. Victor is an alpha as well as a physician, which means this task largely falls to him. 

The other university medic, Doctor Crispino, is a beta with a disposition like rancid vinegar. The treatments are not nearly as effective when he performs them, leaving Victor with the lion’s share of their hysteria patients.

Although, Victor thinks as he spares a glance back to Mister Katsuki, there are worse vocations.

The treatment room for hysteria is at the back of the clinic, mostly due to the necessity of preventing any pheromone scents from aggravating other patients. The room is lit by oil lamps, but the use of honeysuckle-scented candles during the treatments help mask the errant scents thrown off by the omegas. 

Victor holds the door open for Mister Katsuki, and he walks through with his head bowed, either in shame or in vexation. “Disrobe please, and then on the table as always.”

He does his level best to keep his voice clinical, perfunctory. He prays the twinge of excitement on his vowels goes unheard. He hears the sounds of Mister Katsuki taking off his clothing, replacing it with the honeysuckle and lavender scented robe to help mask his pheromones once the treatment begins. 

Once Victor has finished grabbing the necessary scented oil from the cabinet, he washes his hands up to his elbows in a nearby basin. “What happened?” he asks.

There’s a long pause. “Exams are soon. I forgot a step when doing a problem at the board, and the ensuing panic caused Professor Cialdini to bring me here. Again.”

Victor dries his hands on a clean towel. “You’re first in your program, correct?”

“Yes,” Mister Katsuki manages. “Though only because I work harder than the others. The fear of losing my rank…I can't bear it, thus the panicking.”

“You always get top marks on the actual exams,” Victor points out. He looks at Mister Katsuki then, in the pale blue robe still wrapped closed around his torso. His spectacles remain on his face, but that will cease in a moment. “You’re honestly quite brilliant. You shouldn’t fear reaching your potential.”

Mister Katsuki looks at Victor then, with admiration and a bit of relief. “I’m trying.”

Victor gives him a smile. “I know, but the frenzy—”

Mister Katsuki’s joy fades. His hands knot in the folds of the robe.

He crosses the room and tucks a piece of hair behind Mister Katsuki’s ear. His patient inhales a bit sharper than he did a moment ago. His face heats just a little as well, going from its customary olive tone to a delicate peach. A brief, tender pang strikes Victor’s heart before he pushes it aside to focus on his obligation to his patient.

Not before he strokes Mister Katsuki’s hair a second time, of course.

“Lie back, if you please,” Victor says. 

Mister Katsuki remains upright. He’s always a bit stubborn, but that is perhaps part of the reason for Victor’s gentle bedside manner, as well as his fondness. After another minute of a staring contest between them, Mister Katsuki sighs and lies on his back, assuming the necessary posture to ensure best practice.

Victor gently pulls his spectacles off his face, folding them closed and placing them on a shelf next to the table. Mister Katsuki’s robe has opened a little from the way he lies, and Victor pours a few drops of the oil on his palms, rubbing them together to warm it, and then he starts with a hand caressing the scent glands in Mister Katsuki’s throat. Mister Katsuki gasps very subtly, but Victor can feel his pulse speed just a hair from its normal resting rate. 

His other hand rests on Mister Katsuki’s left thigh with the robe between it and his skin. Victor drifts it to the robe’s edge, massaging the muscular skin he finds on the other side. Mister Katsuki has fine, barely visible hairs on his thighs; they always feel pleasant to Victor’s touch. 

Mister Katsuki closes his eyes, parting his thighs just so, and Victor can smell the rise of his pheromones in the air, mingling with the candles and the oil. Victor can feel the customary rise of his own start, but it was clear in his studies that detached, clinical attitudes are acceptable — nothing else.

And yet Mister Katsuki somehow always tests his professionalism, Victor notes as his left hand continues to massage the scent glands in his throat. His right moves higher on his thigh, and Mister Katsuki parts his legs wider to accommodate. Katsuki’s eyes remain closed, though his breath has quickened. 

Victor pauses to part the robe fully, and Mister Katsuki makes a small noise as the cool air touches more of his body. The source of his malady, of course, rests at the apex of his thighs, with its lips already glistening a bit with the slick common to a mating omega. 

Repetition, Victor thinks as two of his fingers caress Mister Katsuki’s folds; his patient gasps louder than before, fully opening to Victor like a blooming rose in the morning light. Victor’s thumb presses into the bundle of nerves while his fingers sink into the hot, wet depths of Mister Katsuki. Repetition is what triggers the paroxysm, that and pressure. 

There is talk of some clinicians facing repetitive stress injuries from unmated omegas and their hysteria, but Victor finds he has no qualms with the procedure. He doesn’t really tire, and with a patient as fetching as Mister Katsuki, who wears hair like a night sky with eyes like a fine single malt, he feels he could be quite content for the rest of his days offering this service. 

He massages Mister Katsuki in languid circles, and Mister Katsuki’s hips begin to rise and fall with his ministrations. Soft whimpers escape from his mouth as he chases after the crisis that will signal his (temporary) cure. The scent of his arousal mixes with his pheromones and Victor lets go of his thigh to adjust the sudden discomforting tightness within his trousers. 

Mister Katsuki is, frankly, exquisite, and Victor tries and fails to detach himself from their precarious position. 

“Tell me what you need,” Victor implores. “Higher? Harder?”

It takes him a while to reply. “Y-yes. Harder.”

Victor nods. He perspires a bit on his forehead as he complies with his patient’s wishes. A bit of added pressure to the bud, more rigorous pressing within the channel at that sensitive spot. The therapy is always bespoke for the patient, and today is no exception as he sees Mister Katsuki’s chest heave in the sign Victor now intimately knows to mean he’s close. His folds are stunningly wet from his own fluids.

It is a close thing that Victor does not drop to his knees to find out if he tastes as sweet as he smells, to bury his face in Mister Katsuki’s sex until he expires with a smile in his lap.

“O-oh!” Mister Katsuki moans. “Ooh, I’m—more—” Victor’s thumb increases its speed, as do the fingers within Mister Katsuki as they tug against his innermost secret. “Please, please,  _ please _ —!”

Mister Katsuki is always completely silent as he comes fully undone, his hips rising into the air and freezing while Victor rubs him through the duration, hard and frantic. When the tension makes its slow retreat, Victor’s hand draws to its original steady pace. 

The struggle against his hysteria is significant, and so usually Victor is required to induce three paroxysms in order to complete the treatment protocol with any success. His pearl is enlarged and puffy, and Victor rubs it counterclockwise this time as he inserts a third finger alongside the first two. 

Mister Katsuki grips the sheets on the table, meaningless words escaping him aside from Victor’s formal title and family name. Victor contemplates what it would be like to have this patient under him in his actual bed, calling out  _ Victor _ instead during the throes of his heat. His cock is hot and full within his trousers, throbbing in time with Mister Katsuki’s second paroxysm.

The third happens almost immediately upon completion of the second, but draws out for what seems like an age. When Mister Katsuki finally sags upon the table in release, only then does Victor withdraw his hands from his sodden folds. 

Mister Katsuki lies still, trying to regain his breath, and Victor strokes his hair again as he did when they began. It would be so easy to kiss his forehead, his parted lips, to whisper sweet words to him as his normal serenity returns. 

It is also an indefensible breach of their boundaries.

Mister Katsuki meets his gaze, and Victor almost gives in to that longing he realizes has been growing with each appointment. He clears his throat and walks across the room, washing his hands a second time in the basin. Victor does his level best to ignore how they tremble when moments ago they were so still and sure.

“I’ll leave you to get decent,” Victor manages to instruct him. “Do you feel better?”

There’s a long enough pause Victor almost asks again just as Mister Katsuki says, “…Yes. Thank you, Doctor Nikiforov.”

“Good,” Victor replies. He looks over his shoulder to Mister Katsuki with a crooked smile. 

Mister Katsuki has the flush still on his cheeks from his paroxysms, but he’s touching the hair Victor caressed with a subtle smile, and Victor feels a stirring within his heart that he tries to lock away. 

Once Mister Katsuki has finished dressing, Victor escorts him to the clinic foyer. “Take care of yourself,” Victor says to him as he exits.

Mister Katsuki hesitates, but he gives Victor a smile alongside his, “Thank you, and I hope you have a good evening.”

Victor closes the door behind him, and then writes a brief memorandum to Cialdini about how, for as much as he longs to do otherwise, he cannot continue to treat Mister Katsuki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't tag this "Intersex Omegas" because it's not super medically accurate but I'm not sure on a different shorthand that would work. Any ideas? **ETA:** I've added "Omegas with Vaginas/Vulvas" and "Yuuri has a Vulva" to this, that seems to work pretty nicely. 
> 
> Look Victorian Hysteria was just...a lot of idiocy so why not make fic out of it? Also I don't think I've seen this before. (It sounds like a lot of you haven't either, so that's exciting!)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://sinkingorswimming.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sink_or_swim)


	2. make you never wanna leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fortnight has passed since Victor has recused himself from Mister Katsuki's care, but that was not the last he'll hear from the beautiful omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than a fortnight has passed, Victor believes, since he last treated Mister Katsuki, and he still cannot quite banish him from his thoughts. Having administered the treatment quite a few times, the realization that Victor not only finds a patient attractive but the  _ affection _ …he wonders if he’s perhaps addled in some way that he would be so mentally weak as to hold such tenderness for a patient.

He sips some warm apple brandy when a heavy, repeated knock sounds on his door. As the university physician, he’s granted rooms on the campus and all of the student body knows where he resides in case of emergency. Given that it is a Sunday evening, it surely must be urgent. 

However, when he opens his door the face that greets him is Mister Katsuki. “I apologize for my intrusion,” he begins. “But I was informed of something distressing. May I come in?”

“Of course,” Victor says. He ushers him in. “Would you like a spot of tea or perhaps something stronger?”

“Is it true that you will no longer see me as a patient?” Mister Katsuki blurts inelegantly, completely ignoring Victor’s attempts at politeness.

“Something stronger then,” Victor replies with an eyebrow raised. He pours the remainder of the warmed brandy for Mister Katsuki, who takes it and immediately throws it back as if it was a common whiskey. “Yes, I have recused myself as your physician.”

His mistake is to meet Mister Katsuki’s gaze, which is full of a deep, abiding pain. Victor has to swallow all of his regrets at causing such harm, though he’s not quite certain how or why. “I offended you, didn’t I?”

Victor’s eyebrows knit together in bemusement. “I’m not certain I—”

Mister Katsuki’s hands knot together in the fabric of his waistcoat just as they do the robe in the clinic. Victor tries not to notice how his school attire emphasizes his trim waist, for now is not the time. “I knew it,” Mister Katsuki whispers. “I knew you could sense it.”

What? “Mister Katsuki, I—”

“I’m so deeply embarrassed,” Mister Katsuki continues. “I’ve made you undoubtedly uncomfortable, breaking propriety in such a grossly deviant manner. I didn’t mean to  _ enjoy _ them so much, but…” Mister Katsuki’s face is the same shade as a late summer tomato. He steels himself, and plows ahead full steam. “With your kind manners and smile, I cannot  _ help it _ . I tried to stop liking it, I tried the baths, riding one of the stallions, even a  _ bicycle _ , but nothing is ever as…” He buries his face in his hands. “I am  _ sick _ , truly, because from the first session with you I’ve been  _ doomed _ .”

Victor thinks back to their treatments. Mister Katsuki was first brought to his care eighteen months prior, and as time has passed, he’s needed them with an increasing frequency. He’s also become more resistant to being sent his way in spite of their greater necessity, as if something was driving him to discomfort.

Such as, perhaps, Victor’s aching and libidinousness being reciprocated.

It takes him a moment to realize that Mister Katsuki has continued his rant. “I cannot stress enough how sorry I am, sir, I did everything I possibly could but the truth is that I’m deeply fond of you, to the point of distraction as well as impropriety, and it has been causing me to act out in an appalling manner.”

Mister Katsuki has tears rolling down his cheeks, and Victor is overcome. He pulls him into his arms, drying them with his index finger with unerring gentleness. “Oh, please don’t feel so poorly,” he says. “I did not take that measure due to any actions on  _ your _ part; rather, I did it due to my own lapse in judgment and sense.”

In addition to looking as if the world is ending, Mister Katsuki looks so vulnerable in his arms. Victor dries a fresh batch of tears the way he did before. He’s so lovely, Victor cannot believe he has been bestowed this boon though — first things first.

“If you are a deviant for enjoying our time together, then I am a thousand times moreso,” Victor explains. “I recused myself because of my  _ own _ feelings for you, Mister Katsuki, as well as the lack of self control I can no longer avoid when alone with you.” Victor smiles at him as softly as he can manage, and Mister Katsuki’s countenance begins to lighten. “I’m fond of you, far beyond what my oath allows me to be, and I find you quite alluring to boot. The sessions were growing…stressful for me in many ways, and my ethics dictate that I no longer act as your doctor—”

The press of Mister Katsuki’s lips against his silences him, and  _ oh _ , this is so perfect. His lips are soft and smooth as they are full and rosy, and Victor’s eyes drift shut as his arms tighten around his former charge. He kisses Mister Katsuki in part to heal the wound from his assumptions but also because he’s almost died of longing for this for far longer than he allowed himself to see until their last clinic visit. 

In all of his life, nothing Victor has done has made him so complete. It truly reaffirms that his choice was correct.

Mister Katsuki breaks the kiss, covering his mouth with his hand for a moment as he is as surprised as Victor is. “I’m sorry, you—your eyes are _so_ _blue_ and I am _so happy_.”

“I am quite happy, too,” Victor offers. “But, I should perhaps write to your family, gain the permission to court you properly before this goes further, Mister Katsuki—”

“Yuuri.” Victor feels it is both a rebuke and a request in one. “Please, my name is Yuuri.”

Victor’s heart patters. “Yuuri, I think it best I—”

He is granted another, longer kiss, with a more ardent tone than the last. Victor can feel his blood start to race. “In my efforts to try and cure myself, I did a lot of reading regarding the wandering womb malady in various periodicals and books. This is how I knew to try the baths and other measures to stave it off on my own.”

“You are brilliant, as I have said,” Victor replies. He feels rather like he’s on some sort of precarious ledge now, though he’s again not certain why.

“The most common cure, the  _ best _ one, however,” Yuuri continues. “Is marital relations in the mating bed. Correct?”

“For mated omegas, that is correct,” Victor agrees. “Unmated are prescribed the pelvic massages when other avenues fail, and there is talk of a new device that utilizes vibrations, but…” Oh, he is dreadfully  _ slow _ tonight, isn’t he? “Yuuri, we haven’t—”

“You are more intimately familiar with my needs than even myself, so the questions of propriety and keeping any mystery for a wedding night is moot, I’d say,” Yuuri argues. 

The logic is irrefutable. “Are you considering schooling to become a barrister? You should, if you haven’t,” Victor chides him. Yuuri smiles, bashful but pleased in lieu of further arguments. And Victor is so weak for him, for his scent and those beautiful eyes like polished Tiger Iron. “I…suppose as I am the cause of your condition and I can no longer see you professionally, I should be kind enough to assist in this regard.”

Victor takes him by the hand, leading him back to his bedroom with butterflies taking flight in his ribcage. He worries his quarters are too spartan to be romantic, but Yuuri seems to lack any concern about the matter, as he shortly pushes Victor into a sitting position while he sits on his lap. Victor feels his body’s stirrings from Yuuri’s thighs and ass resting on his groin. He’s touched those thighs so many times, the sense memory awakens his member fully within seconds. 

Yuuri gasps, looking down at the tenting in his trousers. 

Victor clears his throat. “It is not the first time you have so affected me.”

Yuuri’s eyes stay locked on their laps. “Will I finally see you reach your own crisis, Doctor?”

No, not  _ Doctor _ , not here. “Victor, if you please.”

“Victor, then,” Yuuri says. He rocks experimentally on Victor’s lap once, twice, astride like the saddles that can aid with achieving paroxysm when no physician can lend their guidance. Yuuri’s eyes flutter as his body instinctively seeks its fulfillment in spite of the layers of wool between them. 

Victor has to fight back a groan. Instincts of his own kick in, as he realizes the aroma rising must be Yuuri’s pheromones. It is the first time they are not obstructed by the candles and oil, and he finds that Yuuri smells delectable, like ripe stone fruit and chrysanthemums. It sparks that base hunger lurking within every alpha, and Victor lets his control fly into the wind as he grabs Yuuri, twisting them so they lie on the bed with Yuuri beneath him, legs spread and face flushed.

Another kiss, one that burns them in tandem as Victor undoes the fastenings on the waist coat, removing Yuuri’s overgarments with a careful hand. He’d love to tear them to shreds, but Yuuri must return to his dormitory with his dignity intact, even if his innocence will not be.

Kisses and light bites across Yuuri’s throat, not hard enough to initiate the claiming bonds, and Victor hears that speeding of Yuuri’s breath that he knows like his own name. He strokes down his chest, for the first time permitted to, and he learns all of Yuuri’s curves and edges. Yuuri writhes a little beneath him, his breaths coming more like gasps, and when Victor disrobes himself, Yuuri seizes the opportunity to undo and kick away his trousers. He wears worsted silk drawers below them with a visible wet spot from his body’s answering excitement.

Victor is only in his own drawers of soft cotton, his physical desire at full mast within. He bends to kiss Yuuri furiously, and Yuuri is pliant, clinging to him as he shifts his hips towards Victor’s member in desperation. Heeding the signals, Victor’s hand dips below the waist of Yuuri’s drawers to part the heated lips of his blossoming want. Yuuri makes a relieved coo into Victor’s mouth that he greedily laps up and swallows, and then Victor puts his knowledge, clinical and of Yuuri himself, to work. 

That sensitive pearl is engorged with Yuuri’s wantonness, and Victor rubs it in those magical circles while his fingers dip inside the slick and hot channel below. Yuuri cries out into Victor’s kiss, his hips rutting against Victor’s hand far more openly than ever before, almost as if their intimacy has fully undone his prior restraint.

Victor himself has to stave off his own crisis at the sight and sound of his lovely Yuuri letting go so fully of his inhibitions. He has never been so in need of release, he decides, as his own pheromone scent mixes with Yuuri’s in a thick, potent gourmand that is a tangible signal of their repressed want. 

He should have lit candles here, Victor frets for a moment, for any passerby to his cottage will undoubtedly discern the events transpiring in this bed. 

Yuuri’s breaths shudder, his body grows taut, and then he falls, calling Victor’s name so earnestly that Victor cannot be bothered to care. Let them hear and scent their coupling, let them see firsthand that he belongs to Yuuri as Yuuri does himself. 

Victor feels his hand go from wet to  _ dripping _ , Yuuri making water with this release, and the strongest urge Victor fought during their last clinical appointment can no longer be locked away. He kisses his way down Yuuri’s throat, again leaving those bites that are enough to enhance Yuuri’s arousal without causing a full claiming, and then he leaves lip-shaped bruises over his ribs, his stomach, and then—

And then he pulls the drawers down, dropping them to the floor beside his bed, and he faces Yuuri’s sodden sex, inhaling it like he’ll suffocate if he doesn’t. It’s delicious, Victor decides as he exhales on the sensitive lips, causing Yuuri to gasp and fist one hand in the bedclothes, the other in Victor’s hair. Taking his fingers, Victor parts the sensitive flesh as he presses an open mouthed-kiss to Yuuri’s mons.

Those soft, delectable thighs on either side of Victor’s head begin to tremble, and Victor looks at Yuuri’s face. “May I keep going?”

“Y-Yes,” Yuuri stammers. “Please.  _ Please. _ ”

Victor thanks whatever deities there may be for this generosity, and he places his lips on Yuuri’s second pair, slow and careful, before he changes his course to lick inside that wet tunnel. Yuuri opens in every possible way to him, crying his name in a high, shrill pitch, bucking his groin into Victor’s face, his flower throbbing and swollen, widening to accommodate something thick and full for the purpose of conception.

His cock aches, hard as a hammer and leaking within his drawers, causing Victor moan into Yuuri’s folds. He probes Yuuri’s secret, tonguing him clean of his slick only to be foiled by its return as Yuuri gasps and struggles to breathe. His pleasure is like sweet music, and Victor devours his body as if it is an incredible feast. He could live here, spend days doing nothing but tend to Yuuri with his mouth, and as he suckles on that shining pearl, Yuuri outright  _ screams  _ an aria of his very soul. 

It takes very little to overcome Yuuri and induce a paroxysm this way, and he writhes, his thighs trapping Victor’s head as they shiver while his voice is openly wanton, speaking utter gibberish between breathy gasps of his satisfaction. Victor kisses the insides of his thighs as Yuuri recovers. “Was it too much?”

“Oh,” Yuuri manages when he can open his eyes again. “Absolutely  _ not. _ ”

“I’m glad,” Victor says with a smile and a quick kiss to Yuuri’s hip. He is about to resume that motion when Yuuri grips his shoulder, drawing him back up his body. Without any concern or fear, Yuuri licks his own pleasure from Victor’s mouth and lips. His cock reminds him of his own need, throbbing with the beats of his heart. 

Victor cannot help but groan, and Yuuri breaks the kiss as he slips a hand between them to Victor’s aching want. Yuuri’s gaze is hungry still, almost feral, and he pushes Victor onto his back, freeing his pulsing cock from its confinement. Yuuri studies it for a beat, tracing the curve with his eyes, licking his lips at the beads of white fluid glistening at the tip of his glans. He wraps Victor in his hand, his skin dry and soft, and Victor bucks, thrusting into the empty space therein. 

Yuuri meets his gaze again, so hot and stunningly confident. “Physician, heal thyself,” he remarks as he straddles Victor’s hips, guiding his girth inside him. Yuuri’s back arches, his mouth going slack, and Victor moves, changing their position back to Yuuri beneath him on the bed as he takes Yuuri’s clear permission to drive in and out of him.

The bed bangs against Victor’s wall in a rhythm that is as lewd as it is cacophonous. Yuuri clings to his back, Victor feeling his blunt fingernails raking welts into his shoulders as they rock together in this private waltz. He can feel his knot begin to take shape in their coupling, and while Yuuri is not in heat nor Victor in his rut, the urge to bind them so is overwhelming. 

Yuuri requires three paroxysms to push back his hysteria, to cure his womb-induced maladies, and this is no exception as Victor impales him to his third release on his bed. Victor is not near his own completion, and the fury with which he drives into Yuuri, the angle of his body pressing into that blissful secret ignites a fourth from him, leaving him a panting, sodden mess below. Yuuri wraps his thighs around Victor’s hips, pulling him impossibly close, and Victor’s own crisis begins to pull toward its arrival. 

His knot starts anew, and this time Victor allows it, his member swelling to its peak fullness. Yuuri gasps as his tunnel flutters to accommodate the change, and then he’s wailing from a  _ fifth _ paroxysm as Victor’s knot releases its store of his seed, spilling over and over within Yuuri until it seeps out onto the duvet. 

They stay bound in this manner while Victor empties his completion fully within Yuuri, as Yuuri pants and moans below, shuddering with a small cry into what Victor thinks is his sixth release. His legs remain locked around Victor’s waist, and Victor kisses him so softly while they allow his knot to deflate. 

If this is how they couple without the influence of a heat, then Victor is admittedly a bit scared at what will occur when Yuuri falls victim to his annual season.

As his breathing evens out, Yuuri unwinds his limbs from Victor’s person. His thighs continue to shake, and his sex must be incredibly sore and sensitive. Upon his member’s full deflation, Victor withdraws. He kisses Yuuri’s brow. “Just a moment.”

Yuuri does not protest as Victor dampens a cloth in his wash basin. He returns to his Yuuri and oh so gently cleans away the traces of their passion. Yuuri gasps when he first wipes his lips, then his tunnel and his pearl, shivering a little. Victor is careful with a featherlight touch, but it seems that it is still enough that Yuuri is overstimulated for he grips Victor’s shoulder with a silent plea for him to stop. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor says. He places the cloth into his laundry basket, and then he gathers Yuuri in his arms. 

The only reply he receives is the press of Yuuri’s face into his throat. He mouths at one of Victor’s scent glands, not enough to bite or bruise, but the point is obvious regardless. Just as Victor nibbled on them as if to shout the word  _ mine  _ to the heavens, so too is Yuuri’s open mouthed kiss at this moment. 

Victor will have to change the bedclothes momentarily, and Yuuri should be sent on his way to avoid any gossip among the student body, but for this moment he is too content to hold him, kissing the crown of his hair, hearing his gratified sighs into Victor’s skin. 

He feels about to drift to sleep when Yuuri says, “I understand much better why a marital bed is the best cure.”

Victor laughs. “I do suspect your hysteria will be less chronic, yes.”

Yuuri meets his gaze. “It might worsen, actually, now that the cure is even more diverting than before.”

“Hm,” Victor says. He pretends to consider. “Then I suppose the marital bed as many nights we can manage will have to do.”

Yuuri smiles before drawing close a second time. Truly, he should return to his dorm, but Victor decides the potential gossip can be dealt with another day. They’re both quite happy, and he would rather not disturb that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd fin. *fanfare*
> 
> My first foray into omegaverse, good job me!
> 
> Thank you all for reading. <3
> 
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